Speaker for the Zone
by Hauuu
Summary: Following the events of Dirge Danorum, Mist and the ghost of a fallen stalker embark on an odyssey to discover what the Zone really is.
1. Chapter 1

Speaker for the Zone

Chapter 1

[This story follows the events of several earlier stories; the simplest way to read from the absolute, original beginning (if you haven't already) is at the blog – pseudozone at blogspot dot com – but most of the arcs (Freedom, Dirge Danorum, etc) are on FF net as well. Hope you like it. This arc follows 'Dirge Danorum' directly, and comes right after 'Memories']

An especially loud raindrop struck the metal side of Freedom HQ at Yantar. That didn't bother me; I wasn't going anywhere today. The rain would just make it easier to go back to sleep, not that it would have been difficult. Russet was warm and soft in my arms, and her quiet, regular breathing was better than any lullaby.

Another raindrop hit the side, except this one left a hole that let in a beam of pale light, and a tendril of fog. I dragged Russet off the cot and covered her with my body as another half-dozen shots perforated my wall, and the real shooting started, all at once on both sides. It was deafening.

"Stay down," I said into Russet's ear, and I don't think there was any danger of her getting up. She sensibly covered her head with both hands. I got up and stumbled into the corridor, snatching up Lunch Box as I did so.

The passage was abruptly packed with people, rushing in both directions. There was nothing to hear in the chaos. Bullets slammed through the metal walls, sending showers of sparks off the walls, and shrapnel flying.

I swung onto the main ladder and climbed to the roof. It was just a dull roar until I opened the hatch, letting in the real noise.

Velvet was there, and so were the others. I wore only loose fatigue trousers, but I didn't even feel the pre-dawn cold.

Duty was here. It had taken them more months than anyone had predicted, but they had finally come.

A round snapped past my head, and I dropped down behind the sandbags with Velvet, who was shouting into a radio. There were snipers on the ridge, pinning down the entire compound as Duty crossed the bogs, an impossible – truly impossible number of them – all laying down suppressing fire as they advanced. They were only hazily visible, but their numbers were unmistakable.

Velvet risked a glance over the sandbags. "Now," she said.

The ridge exploded as over a hundred pounds of C4 charges detonated in sequence, sending out a shower of earth and dust and enveloped the Duty force, even as it threw them to the ground. There would be nothing left of the snipers, but the landslide would only slow the main force down, not stop them.

"Go," she said into the radio, and Freedom emerged. This was supposed to be the decisive counterattack, but I'd seen the size of the force out there.

"Who are they?" I shouted to Velvet, whose eyes were wide. Not fearful, but she had seen as well. She didn't know. And there was no time for talking.

I vaulted over the sandbags, dropped the five meters to the ground, and ran for the nearest gate. There was Exile, waving the men forward. People were deploying smoke grenades now; redundant in the morning mist – but now we wouldn't even have the dark outlines to go by. It would be close combat to the last man; we had to play to our strengths. Exile threw down his Weatherby and drew his Beretta.

I passed him as though he wasn't moving at all, plunging into the tall grass.

An exoskeleton loomed out of nowhere, wielding a Browning M2. I jumped on the barrel, forcing it down, and pressed Lunch Box to his face mask before he could react. I pulled the trigger, and the booming shot was like a firecracker in the midst of the battle. More men came streaming out of the fog.

The blast of a grenade knocked me off my feet, and the shadows of men on either side surged past in both directions. A strong hand closed on my arm and pulled me up; the Biker, one arm extended, firing his Pernach on full auto into a cluster of Duty Men.

I was seeing double. I awkwardly pushed Lunch Box into his free hand, and pulled the knife off his vest before staggering off into the fray.

Jester's back was exposed, but I managed to throw the knife into the wrist of the man about to shoot him. The scot turned and shot him three times before disappearing into the haze.

A Duty man blundered into me, and I snapped his neck before he could do anything, hooking his rifle and pulling it up to fire from the hip. The exoskeleton advancing on me soaked it up like paintballs. I dropped the empty rifle as the exoskeleton raised a weapon, but an indistinct figure leapt onto its back, and brown tendrils tore through the light armor over his throat. No surprise; of course they would be drawn to this bloodshed. I scooped up a fallen pistol and staggered forward.

Another one went down to a second drinker, but I had to shoot the third, which was making for a small figure that could only be Venge. My pistol went empty. There was the Merc, the RPK in his arms looking like a toy as he emotionlessly gunned down Duty foot soldiers by the dozen. At his side was the Biker, who fired my Desert Eagle and his own Pernach with such precision that it wasn't clear which of the two men was the more devastating.

They weren't just Duty men. I had seen that much from the roof. There were mercenaries mixed in, and not the local kind. They had to be PMCs brought in from the outside.

There was a familiar thin stalker wandering the battle, trailed by the same phantom I'd seen so many times. Here and gone in the blink of an eye, maybe not there at all. A contractor's neck broke audibly under my arm, and I dropped the body. There was no end to them.

Velvet appeared with her rookie fire team, shouting, of course, and laying waste to anything that crossed the path of her formation. I'd barely picked up a Kalashnikov when it was blown apart by a shotgun blast from a contractor, who was in turn gunned down by Grigor, who met my gaze for only a moment as he reloaded his Tokarev before disappearing.

Velvet flung her empty rifle into the face of a Duty officer that surprised her, and drew her pistol to shoot him in the chest. The Biker relieved a merc of his combat hatchet and flung it into the spine of another enemy before breaking the first man's back over his knee. Exile was hit, but doggedly fired his Beretta as Jester tried to drag him back toward the walls. I saw the Merc appear again, bleeding from a dozen wounds, looking no more bothered than if they were mosquito bites.

The sky overhead darkened substantially; as it became increasingly overcast, visibility worsened. The fog showed no signs of clearing off. As the body count rose, so did the number of drinkers that came to enjoy it. Two mercs got the drop on me, only to be taken by two shapes they couldn't even see.

Venge slammed a fresh magazine into his MP7, only to be knocked aside by a passing exoskeleton that hadn't even noticed him.

A bullet whizzed past me to kill a man who had been about to shoot me down. Sagaris materialized from the fog, bloody, but mobile.

"They're pushing!" he shouted, throwing me one of his pistols. I scrambled out of the tall grass to join him, slipping into the mud. I fired from the ground, bringing down another merc. Sagaris pulled me up.

"We can't win this!"

"I know," I said.

"Where do we go?"

"Where can we go?"

We stood back to back, knee deep in the center of it all. The fog swirled around us, and the battle came and went. Duty bodies were all around us, like a dark green carpet on the floor of the valley.

But it couldn't go on. Duty's force was swelled by the PMCs, and no matter how bravely Freeom fought, our numbers couldn't win. Velvet's battle plan had been brilliant, but she could never have planned for an onslaught of this magnitude. She had been ready, but not ready enough. There was only one way for this to end; it was only a question of how long it would take. Three minutes had already passed since the first round punched through my wall.

I was down to one bullet. I could still feel Sagaris as my back.

"Go back to the gate," I told him.

"What?" He fired four shots into a dark form in the fog, then turned back to me.

"Don't make it easy." Protect Russett. He understood.

"What about you?"

I looked down at my pistol. One bullet. "I'll break through," I said. "I'll find their leader."

Sagaris stared at me for a moment, then nodded. He turned and took off without looking. A Duty man with a shotgun was there. I flung out my arm and fired; my bullet took Slayer through the throat. He reeled back, clutching at the wound, which gushed like a fountain. His eyes met mine for a moment before he went down.

Then the shooting stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

Speaker for the Zone

Chapter 2

It couldn't have ended any other way. The fog cleared, and the sun came out. The lab was still burning, the thick pillar of acrid black smoke trailing off to the east, high above. The Duty man with his knee jammed in my spine, and his sidearm pressed to my head didn't say anything. In fact, there wasn't much to hear except for the helicopters, and the sounds of the wounded. Duty was only treating its own, naturally. They weren't executing Freedom's wounded, but leaving them to bleed wasn't much better.

A Duty officer struck a match and lit the pile of Freedom dead. Exile's body was in there somewhere, a dozen bullets in it. Soon there were two pillars of smoke.

There were barely enough Duty and mercs left alive to keep us all under control – but there were enough. I didn't struggle; there wasn't any strength left to struggle with. It had all left me the moment Slayer's body hit the ground.

The valley stank of blood and death, and there was no wind to carry it away. A Freedom man snarled something at one of the guards, who executed him without hesitation.

There was only one way this could have worked. Velvet's plans had been airtight. She hadn't planned for these numbers, but our perimeter security had been breached like it wasn't even there. Someone had turned. Duty couldn't have gotten the intel they needed to mount this operation without eyes on the inside.

And to bring in outsiders to do it for them… Velvet had never dreamed they would risk such shame – but they had, and apparently gladly. There had been a time when Duty had been a pure and noble ideal. Then there had been a time when it had still been noble, but misguided. Now it was just a tool for men who wanted the Zone to themselves, plain and simple. Duty was gone; now there was just this dictatorship instead.

Freedom was gone too. I could smell it burning behind me. Duty hadn't killed us yet, but they would. If they hadn't hesitated to do any of this, they couldn't leave us alive.

We had known this was a changing Zone, a whole new world. None of us ever thought it would be a world without factions. There had been nothing wrong with Velvet's plan; she had simply been too late to turn the tide.

As the past six months turned to ash behind us, I watched the Duty officers deliberating over Russett. They didn't know who she was, or what to make of her. Dressed in Freedom fatigues, she was clearly no stalker. Her refusal to leave the Zone had surprised no one. If they killed her, it was my fault. I should have left with her then, after Tyrian's death. But I couldn't leave, and it no longer had anything to do with my promise to Velvet. I'd begun to see how meaningless that had been.

But this had not been inevitable. I'd had a choice, and I'd made the wrong one. The officer pointed, and the soldier knelt her beside some of the disarmed rookies. It wouldn't be any better even if they didn't kill her. This wasn't the same Duty that had once been out to protect people from the evil of the Zone.

Another officer led Grigor out and forced him to his knees. The old man was gray and bloody. Crows circled overhead, and in the distance there was another helicopter approaching.

"When I killed your brother, I never imagined I'd be killing you too," the Colonel said. He took out his Makarov, pressed it to Grigor's head, and shot him. His body slumped over in the mud as the shot echoed around the valley.

He put the pistol away and motioned forward the two men holding Velvet. "The same for you," he said. "I never imagined you would be this foolish."

"I never imagined it would take you this long to work up the nerve," she replied, meeting his eyes. The man behind her struck her with the stock of his rifle, and she fell. The Colonel kicked her savagely until she vomited blood and lay motionless. No, not motionless. She wanted her postcard, which had fallen to the ground, and lay out of reach. The Colonel slammed his boot down on her hand.

"You should have run when you had the chance," he said, pressing down and twisting. Everyone in the valley could hear the bones in her hand breaking.

The Biker was passed out from blood loss. Sagaris had been tied up. Six men were holding down the Merc. I couldn't see anyone else.

"This doesn't hurt," Velvet said, coughing up more blood. "This doesn't hurt at all."

"Enough." He drew his Makarov again, but had to put up his arm against the sudden wind from the chopper overhead. It sank down, and a familiar figure in white leapt out, though Ever's fatigues weren't nearly as white as his face. The chopper lifted off, but Ever didn't move. His eyes slipped from Grigor's body to Velvet, to the prisoners, to the mound of burning dead, to the bonfires that represented our tents, buildings, and fortifications, lovingly built from the ground up over the last six months.

"Oh, what are you doing here?" The Colonel didn't sound pleased.

Ever didn't say anything, he just stared.

"Your plan worked," the Colonel added. Ever looked over so sharply that the older man actually flinched.

"I warned you," Ever said.

The Colonel's face hardened. "You don't warn me," he said.

"No," Ever said quietly, eyes distant. "Evidently not." The Colonel didn't seem to pick up on it. No surprise. He held out the Makarov.

"You want to do it?"

"May as well. It's not my first time." Ever took it and shot him in the face.

For a moment, no one knew what to do. The Colonel's body crashed to the ground. Another officer started to shout something, but Ever kicked him onto the burning pile of bodies, and shot him when he tried get off it. The third officer wisely didn't say anything, but that didn't stop a foolish Duty soldier from shooting Ever in the back.

He didn't even seem to feel it. He touched his chest where the round had punched through, looked at the blood on his fingers, and turned to give the Duty man a flat look. That was it. Until that moment, anything could have happened.

Very calmly, Ever made a few suggestions to the remaining officer, who wasted no time passing them on. Things started to move fast. Ever was doing a good job holding it together for a guy who'd just been shot in the chest, but it wouldn't last. It obviously wasn't a mortal wound, but Ever isn't the machine he wants people to think he is.

"Let me up," I said to the man holding me down. His focus was gone; I could've taken him out in a heartbeat if I wanted to. But I didn't want to. Reluctantly, he got off, and I went to Velvet. She was hurt worse than I thought.

The mercs cleared off right away. Without them, the remains of the Duty assault force were even more pitiful. At Ever's extremely frightening request, they left behind what supplies they could. But before the wounded could be treated, there was a general scramble to keep people from doing anything stupid. Freedom didn't want to let Duty walk, but they didn't see that it was the only way. A lot of Duty people weren't buying that they should walk away from what was clearly a victory, especially one so costly. And there were a lot of Freedom people that wanted to snatch up a gun with Ever in mind. We'd all heard what the Colonel said.

Many of the wounded died. We were in the open, without even tents, much less supplies. Ever had pushed his luck just to back Duty off; there would be no asking them for help.

Ever collapsed. Velvet lost consciousness, leaving only myself and Sagaris to take charge. We did our best, and with the Merc's incredible calm, somehow, we saved most of the wounded that could be saved. With Grigor gone, Russett was now the most experienced medic, and today justified the time she'd spent learning from him.

The Morton stalker and the stalker that had been accompanying him lately were there, but I had never been less interested.

Even the mutants knew to keep away from the valley now. In fact, I suspected it would stay clear for a very long time. Eventually, the fires went out.


	3. Chapter 3

Speaker for the Zone

Chapter 3

Word traveled quickly.

By nightfall, there were enough loners at the ruins of Freedom HQ to make Duty's horde look like a little mob. Even Clear Sky coughed up some medics and sent them over. The whole Zone had mobilized to help Freedom in its time of need.

That couldn't change the fact that Velvet's numbers had been decimated. She probably had nothing to fear from Duty anymore. In fact, nobody did. Duty was finished, now. They would be even more vilified than Bandits. Duty would regroup, and grow strong again – but they no longer had a future. The smart ones would leave the Zone or change sides. Another similar organization would probably turn up, but Duty was through. It was now only a matter of time.

Ever had deliberately stayed behind when the Duty men pulled out. That was his way of saying that it was time for him and his faction to part ways. His plan, the Colonel had said. Not exactly.

Ever had known that Duty would never allow Freedom to grow unchallenged. His first plan had been to delay the attack, to give Velvet time to dig in and gain strength, in the hopes that when he could stall them no longer, Duty would see that such a fight would be ill-advised.

That plan had failed. Ever had underestimated the hatred for Freedom harbored by Duty's top men. He'd also overestimated their intelligence and moral fiber. "The last time I ever give anyone the benefit of the doubt," he groaned, when he came around in the medical tent as men from Clear Sky pulled bits of lead from his chest.

No, Duty was dead set on driving Freedom out. And Ever hadn't seen a way to stop it – but he had seen a way to prevent bloodshed. Freedom was richer than it had ever been, but it would still never match Duty's resources, because a good business plan just wasn't as good as being backed by numerous governments. Ever proposed a show of overwhelming force. Even if he overestimated Duty's men, he knew Velvet was no fool. If Ever showed her a losing battle, she would have no choice but to fold.

He didn't want to see Freedom die, but it was better than having the bloodiest showdown since the battle for Chernobyl. But that was exactly what we'd gotten. If they were going to go to the trouble to hire a few hundred mercs, why not use them?

Ever wasn't as bad off as he should've been. Russett wouldn't let him walk around, but he was calm and lucid as soon as he came around. I don't know how it happened, but with Velvet out of commission, he was suddenly in charge. Not in any official capacity, but the Biker listened to him, and the Biker was Velvet's second in command.

Before even a day had passed since the battle, he was already trying to figure out what Freedom was going to do. They had all the help they needed to get back on their feet, but Yantar was no longer such a desirable piece of real estate. They were going to have to find somewhere to go, and a way to move the wounded.

Yantar was just a graveyard now. Already some of the able-bodied well wishers were digging graves. Few of the burned corpses were recognizable, but at the very least they could have their own graves and markers, even if there were no names. A small forest of wooden crosses had already gone up, and the job was only half-done.

The Biker shouldn't have been on his feet, but someone had to be the executor of Ever's decisions. Sagaris did his best to back him up.

It was a mess. None of us would ever be able to get rid of the stench of burned flesh. They were trying to get people fed after dark when I found myself a little way off, looking at the stars. Russett found me. We hadn't spoken all day; we'd both been too busy. She'd brought me a shirt; I don't know where she got it. I pulled it on.

She looked tired, and a little blank. Our generators had all been destroyed; there was nothing but firelight for us now. Russett and I were well outside it, standing in shadow, apart from the others. She smelled vaguely of the alcohol wipes she'd used to clean her hands, though her fatigues were still sodden with the blood of the people she'd been trying to help.

"How's Velvet?"

"She'll live."

"And the Biker?"

"Not if he doesn't slow down. Between him and that English guy, they seem to have it under control."

"He's German," I said absently, putting my arm around her.

"I saw that guy."

"I wish I had."

"It was him or Sagaris. You aren't coming back this time, are you?" She found my right hand and rubbed it gently.

"I'm not making the script here."

"I guess not. What's going to happen?"

"One way or another, they'll rebuild. They have to. If they don't, there'll be a vacuum, and Duty will capitalize on it, and this will have been for nothing. Ever knows it. Even if Velvet doesn't…"

"Pull through?"

I nodded. "He'll still do it. And the Biker will back him up. He won't let Duty win. And the Merc will stay with Velvet."

"That big guy isn't very upfront with his feelings, is he?" It was not at all strange that we were talking like this after the events of the day. What were we supposed to talk about? The slaughter?

"He's complicated," I said.

"Good thing him and the Biker haven't figured each other out yet. There'll be trouble when they do. Sagaris found this." She held out Lunch Box. It was muddy, but still in one piece. A good cleaning and it would probably be all right. It took it and hefted it. The gun felt depressingly heavy. I didn't want anything to do with it. I handed it back. She looked vaguely surprised. Neither one of us had enough left after the day to muster up much more than this.

"I don't plan to do any more shooting anytime soon," I said. "I've had enough."

"Me too."

"Should we go?"

"You serious?"

"I guess."

"You can't, though."

"I think I can. Now."

"But you shouldn't."

"Maybe not."

"I want to stay with Velvet." Russett really did. Anything was better than facing the outside world without her sister, even the Zone. What was actually best for her – well, I'd stopped having opinions on things like that quite a few bodies ago. There was always work for a good medic in the Zone. Keeping busy helping people kept Russett going. I understood that. I also understood she wouldn't be any safer anywhere else. The Dane was still out there, and he'd been paid for two sisters, not one.

"I'm sorry."

"Next few weeks," she said, looking over her shoulder at the makeshift camp. "There wasn't going to be much time for us anyway."

She was right about that. If it was a mess now, that was nothing compared to what it would be tomorrow, and the day after. Would Bandits show up with funny ideas? Would Duty try to pull something together to finish the job, and Ever with it? Was there a way for the local mercs to benefit from this situation? The military? Any outside governments?

The actual body count was nothing compared to the battle for Chernobyl, but it was still too high. The stalker population still hadn't gotten back to normal, and now Duty, which did most of the heavy lifting in terms of keeping the Zone in check, would be down to a skeleton crew.

Things would get worse before they got better. The battle for Chernobyl had strengthened the Zone, and so had the recent changes. I was ready to bet the rate of expansion had doubled in the last twenty four hours.

"Do you at least know where you're going this time?"

"No idea."

"Figures." I pulled her a little closer. It was cold out, and she was warm. For all I knew, the last warmth I was going to feel for a long time. "You remember how mad Velvet was last time? This time it's going to be a lot worse."

"No helping it."

"I guess not." At least there was someone who understood. That was worth something to me.

"Wait a minute," she said, pulling away. "You aren't – you mean you're going now?"

"I think so."

"You're not even going to take a gun?"

"What for?"

She sighed and hugged me. "Then this is it."

"You can come if you like."

"Velvet needs me more than you do."

"I guess."

"How long have we been here?"

She meant the Ukraine.

A few minutes ago I'd have been able to tell her. Months or years, it didn't matter. Time was different in the Zone. "I don't remember."

It was tempting to let the hug just go on and on. Letting go is the hardest part, but I did it. This was not a tearful parting. We both understood the situation, in our own ways. I was very grateful for that, and I expect Russett was too.


	4. Chapter 4

Speaker for the Zone

Chapter 4

"Don't mention it. Just go south, and around the bog, don't go in it, even though you can see across. If you go in there, you won't come out. Just take the long way over the rocks. If you see any caves or crevices, stay away from them."

"Got it." The two stalkers supported a third, bandaged, but alive.

I saluted them with the ration bar they'd given me in exchange for directions.

It's not easy to walk the Zone with nothing but the clothes on your back and a canteen.

They headed off south, and I sat down on a rock to rest and think about my next move.

It was a beautiful day. A deep blue sky, bright sun, fluffy clouds. I was at low elevation, so the darkness of Chernobyl wasn't looming on the horizon to kill the buzz. Even the crows, if there were any around, had decided to shut up for a bit. You could almost think this was just a national park somewhere.

I decided to keep going, through the trees, down the hill, and into the ravine. There was some water there, maybe from an underground spring, or maybe just pooled rainwater from the storm two nights ago.

It had been over a week since what everyone was now calling the Massacre at Yantar. That was a little misleading; Duty and its adjuncts had sustained far more grievous losses than Freedom, taken in proportion.

But the Zone was outraged, and what I did pick up from the stalkers I encountered on the road was encouraging. It sounded like Velvet, though still unable to walk, was at least able to shout, though from what I heard, it pained her, which just made her shout more. Whatever she was doing, with the support of Ever and the Biker, it was working.

Freedom couldn't just bounce back, but it could very easily have choked and died in the aftermath of that bloody battle. It hadn't. Velvet wouldn't let it. Not before her year was up. I smiled at the thought and crouched by the water to take a drink. There was a cavern on the other side of the clear pool, which I eyed warily for a moment.

Duty was having great difficulty. As time passed, more damning information was coming to light. The Colonel's actions had cost many Duty lives, and even more Duty personnel, disgusted by the affair, had quit. Some had even defected to Freedom to make amends. If what I heard was true, at the moment, Duty only had about double the manpower that Freedom did – the smallest margin in memory.

Of course, it wouldn't last. Duty's backers would pour more money into them, and memory of this ugly chapter in the Zone's history would fade. People seemed to remember the Battle at Chernobyl clearly enough, but that had been much bigger; it had probably involved one out of every three stalkers in the Zone. Of course they remembered. This had been a trifling little scuffle by comparison. But people would still remember.

They'd remember that Duty had been so scared of a woman that it brought all its friends and still lost.

Not a killing blow for an organization with as much money to throw around as Duty, but at least they got to bleed a little.

I got up and moved on into the gully. It was overhung with trees, and soon I was walking in very pleasant shade. I'd never been here before; in fact, I'd never been anywhere near this place – and I'd done some traveling during my six months with Freedom. There could be anything in a forgotten corner of the Zone like this; who would know?

The night before I'd found signs of cultists in the area. I wasn't exactly looking for them, per say, but if I found them, I could at least warn other stalkers. That wasn't what I was out here for, though. I had come for something else.

Velvet had known something like Duty's assault was possible. In fact, despite what the Morton Stalker had done for her, I think a part of her expected it. I knew about the events that had shaped her worldview, and I knew she always expected the worst. And she'd gotten it. But she shouldn't have.

We could say that she gambled and lost – but would that be true? That was what I'd left Freedom to find out. And I'd stumbled over all sorts of interesting things along the way. There were plenty of stalkers who needed help out of tight spots, and plenty of sights to see in the Zone. The place never runs out of things to show you. I'd found a hidden vale south of the plateau that was quite breathtaking, and some bizarre rock formations that I seriously doubted had natural origins.

I'd witnessed a drinker mixing it up with a boar twice his size, and winning. There had been a blowout that changed the landscape right in front of my eyes as I walked through it.

I hadn't seen the Morton Stalker since Yantar. Chernobyl was darkening steadily on the horizon.

Bandits were out in force, now that both Duty and Freedom were substantially weakened, and loners were traveling in pairs and groups to counter them. Every day I found another body, or clear signs of a brief, but brutal shootout or ambush.

I found a stash beneath the rickety planks bridging a small creek, packed with candy bars. I only took one. Later I gave a lost rookie directions to the rookie camp, and realizing he couldn't get there on his own, escorted him. The fat trader there fed me an excellent meal, and a local trainer tried to recruit me to drive some bandits from a nearby establishment. I declined. It wasn't my place to get involved in petty conflicts anymore.

I found the PDA of a stalker who was, after listening to some of his audio logs, clearly quite mad. Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of any good therapists in the Zone, and the man was probably dead by now anyway. It didn't seem fair. Life in the Zone was hard enough for sane people, but then again, what were sane people doing here in the first place?

I didn't have to worry about Freedom or Russett worrying about me; I was encountering enough people that word had to be getting around that I was still up and about. News about Freedom was too easy to get. The same couldn't be said of Duty, but that was no surprise. In their humiliation, of course they were playing things close to the chest.

As for Russett, well, sooner or later my meandering course would take me close to wherever Freedom decided to set up shop – so far I hadn't heard anything to indicate they'd moved yet, and that made sense. They wouldn't move until the wounded were fit to travel, and it was still too soon for that. There was plenty of prime real estate – much of it more desirable than Yantar. We'd only been there for Grigor. Though I'd have preferred to have Grigor alive and be stuck at Yantar to the current situation.

I bet Velvet was chafing to get away from Yantar. It wouldn't be long before she mobilized and moved the operation; the sooner they moved, the sooner real rebuilding could take place.

As an outsider, I would have thought that in light of recent events, the Zone would be a dark and ugly place in times like these, with stalkers at an all time low, and everything else coming out of the woodwork. No one could navigate anymore without the satellite maps. That was a stroke of luck for Freedom, because stalkers were actively seeking other places where stalkers gathered to pool their information.

I stopped and folded my arms, looking up into the dark trees.

"I know you're not real, but it doesn't bother me if you want to come along," I said honestly. It really didn't. I knew he was up there – the stalker in black.

"Where are we going?" he called down.

"We find out when we get there," I replied. "Why don't you come down? It's weird to have you following like I can't see you."

"Most people can't."

That, I believed. "Come on, what do you have to be afraid of? People will think I'm talking to myself. Not a good sign, talking to yourself. Especially not for someone with my reputation," I added.

"Afraid? I'm just shy."

Indeed, this stalker did have a bit of a reedy voice, and the glimpses I'd gotten of him hadn't made him out to be very big. But at least he wasn't a total shrimp, like Venge, who had, despite his small size, somehow managed to come through the battle alive.

"Are you doing a funny voice on purpose?" I called up.

"That's not very nice!" the stalker called back from the shadowed boughs.

"I didn't mean anything by it."

There was a ruffled silence. Then very suddenly, a dark figure landed beside me without a sound. It was the first time I'd seen the specter up close. The bloodstains on his black fatigues looked fresh, but ghosts don't bleed. Neither do hallucinations. But they do, now that I looked a little closer, have remarkably slender and girlish physiques. I realized I'd made a faulty assumption.

"You're not a guy," I said stupidly.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

"Shall we go?"

"You got a name?"

"I don't remember."

"Have it your way, Stranger."

"I will, thank you. What now?"

"It's a big Zone out there." I turned east and shaded my eyes against the sun. "And we've got a little time yet. Let's go exploring."

[Author note: unfortunately, this will be the last chapter for a little while – I have to go off for some military training. There's details at the Zone blog – feel free to head over there: pseudozone dot blogspot dot com – for more info. If you like my stuff, consider buying one of my books! (There'll be links at the blog, and there should also be links to my sites and such in my profile here on FF.) Thanks for reading – I hope you'll stick around until the story picks up again, and see it through to the end. Take it easy! -Wish]


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